


do you think labels make it taste much better?

by middlecrumpets



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Christmas nonsense, F/M, basically this is just roman being really into gerri because how could you not be?, i really don't know what i'm doing, with a mention of sushi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21568648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlecrumpets/pseuds/middlecrumpets
Summary: Who gives a shit about sushi anyway? He only goes along with it because she has a strange affinity for a mid-level chain restaurant. But it’s not really about sushi, is it? Of course not.
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 74





	do you think labels make it taste much better?

**Author's Note:**

> i can't stop thinking about them and how roman now has to spend christmas in england 
> 
> pls feel free to talk to me about succession !!! i hope you love roman just being super into gerri COOL

It’s a quiet night in a surprisingly less of a shitshow week. No Cruises disaster sacrifices, no Argestes puffer vest fucker fest.

“So.... Christmas is in two weeks,” Roman tries from his perch on the arm of her couch. Drawn out slowly, nonchalant, definitely not a big deal.

“I’m glad you’re finally keeping a calendar and can recognize upcoming national holidays.” She’s still engrossed in yet another Shiv Memo that Logan wants her thoughts on.

These days, he’s not even surprised how content he and Gerri are just being in each other presences, though both have yet to dare put a label on exactly what this is they’re doing. He usually shows up at her office after hours, when the bullpen is dark and all her legal minions have gone, to follow her home for a nightcap. Because who gives a shit about explaining why this is now his routine? He just wants to, ok? It doesn’t matter why he needs to be near her, wants to breathe the same air as her. To be able to catch a whiff of her perfume that’s tinged with lavender and something familiar he can’t name.

“Well, the calendar is so I know when I can loiter here for you to tell me to fuck off, because you know that warms my cold black heart.”

He wasn’t even sure why he’d brought it up. He wasn’t even going to do Christmas; to lay in the proverbial bed he made when Ken, Shiv, and he negotiated for Caroline’s shareholder votes on Logan’s behalf. But Shiv ribbed him this morning via text— _“so I guess there won’t be a reprise of the Eunuch Twins Convention at mom’s this year, huh?”_

And in the middle of his office, Roman was left with his phone in his hand, or rather his dick in his hand. Because like a dipshit, he finally had the good graces (for once) to break up with Tabitha. It doesn’t matter that he did it after hanging up on what was probably the 18th late night phone call with Gerri that month. And it most certainly does not matter that now he’s thought about it, he wants to either have Gerri by his side at Christmas or fuck that torture of a family gathering.

“Rome, what is it about Christmas?” He looks over and sees her removing her glasses, eyebrow quirked. God damn it, why is that now something he wants to see everyday? She has yet to answer his question from Dundee and he’s unsure what they’re doing between phone calls and late nights at her place, so why does her doing that simultaneously makes his dick hard and makes him want to propose marriage all over again?

He starts fidgeting and pacing through the living room, gathering his coat and hastily throwing his scarf on all the while. Plan an exit strategy before throwing a bomb on the ground — to avoid rejection, to avoid disappointment. The Roman Roy Method.

“I was thinking eh, like, you know, you, me, at Caroline’s for Christmas? Shiv has Tom, Connor has Willa, and you know, maybe Rockstar and the Molewoman should make an appearance?”

“You want to take me home for Christmas at your mother’s? Like I’m your college girlfriend?,” she quipped, bemused, leaning back in her chair and giving Roman a glimpse of her legs. Nylon clad, the consummate professional.

“Yeah, well no, ok, yeah, don’t get overexcited like a school girl. Just, uh, something for you to think about,” he does a half wave as he’s out of the door and can’t help but think if this essentially mirrors his abrupt proposal in Dundee. And if this will be another thing left unsaid between them that he desperately wants to solve.

—

_You know I haven’t said no._

The text comes through at five-thirty in the morning. Gerri is always an early riser; the Waystar Royco Legal Eagle making sure she’s on top on every crisis before half of New York wakes up.

Roman can’t for the life of fuck figure out which question she’s referring to. Can only hope it’s an answer to both but of course he would never ask. So he tries to be flippant, to test the waters on both subjects to see which one she’ll take the bait on.

_Being forced to live with me or taken to Caroline’s lions den. I do know how to show a gal a good time ‘cause you know, chivalry and all that jazz._

A thumbs up is all he gets in return. Another incomplete answer. Another text that leaves his pulse racing yet feeling calm as hell just because it was her. What the fuck was wrong with him?

—

He tries to stop by her office both days following the text, always missing her with her being pulled into one meeting or another. He feels like he’s constantly on the look out for her now, best comforted when he knows she’s around, when he knows he’s in her orbit.

He was easily distracted before, but now even a glimpse of short blonde hair has him doing a second take. He’s glad Karolina changed her hair, or else he’s sure he’ll be giving her the wrong idea.

Finally, _finally_ , he catches her late one night. It’s cold as balls outside, snow falling across the Manhattan skyline, and Roman has his coat on ready to go— to sit by the fire and just _be_ in her company after a shit day.

“Hey, Rome, I have to stay late tonight to prepare the acquisitions research for your dad’s next brilliant idea to save us from this Ken shit show. You’ll have to figure out how to order Blue Ribbon Sushi on your own.”

He tries not to let the disappointment show on his face, like a boy who had his Christmas morning taken away. But she always knows what he’s thinking, often even before he does. He wants to brush it off. Who gives a shit about sushi anyway? He only goes along with it because she has a strange affinity for a mid-level chain restaurant. But it’s not really about sushi, is it? Of course not. It’s always just about spending time with her. Drawn to her, wants to see her laugh, a moth to a flame.

He tries to recover, quickly tries to run through his Rolodex of jabs to be facetious, to brush this off. But she sees, and understands. And doesn’t say a word. This level of transparency should scare the living shit out of him, but instead, he feels like he’s sun bathing in aft deck of Marcia's yacht. To him, she is warmth and comfort that can’t be found elsewhere.

He does a small wave and starts to back out of her office, but she stops him with a casual “so I was thinking, wheels up on the jet at Teterboro on Christmas Eve?”

And for a second, he wasn’t sure what she was referencing, his brain working to catch up to where she is. But then he gives her a smirk, that smirk that deepens as his eyes darken while looking into crystal blue ones.

“So it’s a yes?” 

She gets up from behind her desk and goes to him in the doorway. His eyes linger on her tailored suit, wondering what it feels like to feel so well made for a person.

“If only to save another girl from having to suffer through the clusterfuck that you are.”

She adjusts the collar of his coat, then smooths his left lapel with one hand. He’s unsure where she’s headed, doesn’t want to breathe too loudly for fear of breaking the spell, this mist that surrounds them. She lifts her head and stares into his eyes, and he feels seen, like they’re on the same page even with unanswered proposals. Always a team.

“Please be sure to let Caroline know to expect me. I’d hate to be an unannounced guest.” The no nonsense tone, Gerri fucking Kellman snapping back into place.

But then she presses a kiss to his cheek, grazing the corner of his mouth. They’ve never done this before. This tenderness. And before Roman can react, she’s halfway back to her desk leaving him rooted at the door.

The cold wind hits his face the minute he exits the revolving doors, his driver waiting for him at the usual spot. As he settles into the backseat, he replays their entire conversation. Gerri planning the jet, her comment, the kiss, the mist, lost in the mist.

Fuck, he’s in deep. And for once, he doesn’t give a shit and lets the thought buoy him home where he does order the sushi just because it reminds him of her.

**Author's Note:**

> title from ain’t together by king princess


End file.
